Should Be Mine
by Pete Campbell's Mistress
Summary: Oliver reflects on the moments that led to his affair with a very married Felicity and the downfall of said affair when her husband finds out. The story follows events of the show and will be Olicity. Barry Allen also plays a roll in the story.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Sorry that Oliver is a little OOC here. I am trying to find his voice!_

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _Arrow_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to the WB. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

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As he sat in the rain resting on his heels, letting the water soak through his tuxedo shirt, he could hardly tell remember where this all began. He stared blankly out across the expansive lawn of the Queen mansion as he heard the chords of "At Last" by Ella Fitzgerald start and the shuffle of feet as people repositioned their chairs to get a better look at the bride and groom spin around the dance floor. A minute or two later he felt Diggle lay his large hand on his shoulder. Oliver barely acknowledged the touch, but he did accept the beer when Dig dangled it in front of him. A few moments longer and Diggle felt the need to speak up, "You're missing Thea's big moment man."

"I know," Oliver sighed, sat back so his Armani tux now sat flush against the cold, wet cement, and took a long swig of the beer, "But _she_ isn't here. And I know I royally fucked it up, but…_She's…_I…"

"I know, man. I know, but you have to put on that million-dollar smile and let the _Starling City Gazette_ capture a few shots of you with Thea and Roy and your mom, and then I can pull some tactical moves and get you out of here."

Oliver took one more swig of his beer, stood up, rubbed his hands over his face and turned toward the door he'd snuck out of earlier. He knew he would find a dry tux sitting in the guest bedroom, and he would do everything he could to make this night memorable for Speedy. But as he dried himself off, he had to finally admit that he was crying for the first time in years.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: In my story, Barry hasn't been hit by the storm yet. He is still just Barry Allen. _

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _Arrow_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to the WB. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

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As Oliver stripped himself of the wet clothing, he saw Felicity's face, lips pursed, eyes narrowed about to scold him for being so foolish on Thea's wedding day. He picked up the soaking wet tuxedo and went into the adjoining bathroom to take a quick shower. The hot water beat down on his muscled and scarred skin and thought back to the first time he had actually taken notice of her. Of _his _Felicity.

Barry Allen had just left Starling City to see the particle accelerator start up in Coast City. He'd left a gift for Oliver: a dark green, lightweight mask. Felicity had lifted the mask and placed on his face, her soft fingers lightly caressing his face as she pulled away. He doubted she noticed the familiarity of the touch.

Ever since his (second) return to Starling City, he had been growing closer to Felicity. He'd opened up to her a little, and she had treated that as a privilege. He had been nervous to share stories of the island with Diggle or Felicity, worried they would judge him for the atrocities he had committed. Granted, he had told Diggle a great deal more about the island, but Felicity treated every memory he shared with her like a treasure. She would sit and listen with rapt attention. Her eyes always remained focused on him and never gave him cause to feel she thought any lesson of him. Every time he finished his tale, she would touch his forearm and thank him for sharing. Sometimes, she would let slip seemingly meaningless information about her past and her family. He tried to listen as attentively to her as she did to him, but she would often end her confession with a soft blush and brush off the story hurrying into the next topic.

Oliver could admit he'd made a mess of things in Russia. Yes, Isabel Rochev was incredibly attractive on the outside, but she was truly the depiction of the devil in disguise. On the inside, Isabel Rochev was a shriveled miser with coal for a heart. Like all his moves, Oliver calculated what would be the easiest route to get Isabel off his back with the least harm done. Once he recognized how attracted she was to him, he realized sleeping with her would divert her attention to him as a lover rather than a business associate or potential threat. Low risk, and, he had to admit, a mission that wouldn't altogether suck. And then _she _was there, at the door, and he realized he had calculated very wrong. Her face told him everything he needed to know, confirmed all of the things they never talked about-her crush had developed much farther than he wanted. He tried to explain in his office once they'd returned-that he couldn't be with someone he could really care about. He saw in her face that she hoped he was talking about her, but he wasn't so sure he was done meaning Laurel. Her next words did him in though. He might not have thought of her as a romantic interest at the time, but she was his best friend, someone he could be completely himself around-mood swings and all-and he hated hurting her, but he despised himself for disappointing her.

Rescuing her from the Count made him realize how much she meant to him. He knew she was his best friend. For all the hours Thea and Laurel had clocked with him, neither knew of his double identity. He would love them both dearly forever, but until they knew about his vigilante face, he would always feel distant from them. And, truthfully, he wasn't sure he wanted them to know about his vigilante side. He liked how Speedy and Laurel looked at him. Like he was just a normal guy. Sara was an amazing woman, but she had changed and he doubted they would ever be close again. Diggle understood him. He could even begin to understand the things Oliver had to do on the island. But Diggle didn't push. Sure, he would fight with Oliver verbally, and sometimes physically if need be, to get his point across, but he didn't push Oliver socially or to open up. Felicity was his best friend because she cared enough to push him in all aspects of his life, and she wasn't afraid of him despite the fact that he could easily crush her. She had convictions, and she let him know about them. She was also really soft. She could sit in comfortable silence when he needed it, and she would bring him coffee if she thought it would help. She could make him feel like the only person in the world, like he was valuable. He needed that. When Felicity looked at him, she saw him. She saw the playboy, the CEO, the vigilante, and the man healing from years of the unspeakable. She laughed at his lame jokes, and she made fun of him. And when he saw the Count touch her hair, something in him snapped.

But that night that she touched his face and walked back to her chair, that was the night. As she walked away, he missed her. She was five feet away from him, and he genuinely missed her. His hallucinations of Shado, but more importantly of Tommy, reminded him why he continued to protect the city. Hearing Tommy's words echoed in Felicity's showed him just how well she understood him. He watched her stretch in her chair, and then pick up her phone, smiling at a text. _Barry _he thought and ground his teeth. Suddenly, he really hated Barry Allen. Diggle punched his shoulder, and Oliver grunted in reply.

As he took off his leathers, he noticed that Felicity wasn't sneaking glances at him. Annoyed, Oliver threw on a pair of sweats and started his workout. Still, she didn't look. He began to work himself up into a real rage. _What exactly does she see in this kid? _When lifting weights wasn't doing the trick, he broke out his sticks and began a complicated dance-hitting target after target in the close quarters. Sweat pouring down his bare chest, he turned to Felicity under the guise of finding his water bottle. She was swinging back and forth in her chair texting something that made her cheeks flush. She quickly put the phone face down on her desk and went back to running a few searches. He heard the phone ping when he grabbed the bar for the salmon ladder. He grunted as he worked his body up and down the ladder twice. When he dismounted on the floor, she was reading another text biting her lip cheeks a rosy pink. He cleared his throat as he grabbed his water bottle, and she seemed to remember he was in the room. She looked up embarrassed, said a hasty goodbye, and gathered up her things. As she walked out of the lair, he could hear her whispering on the phone.

The water started to run cold, and Oliver stepped out of the shower. He barely recognized the man staring back at him in the mirror. He braced his hands on the sink, took a deep breath, and headed back into the first floor guest room.


End file.
